Scene 1
The Castle on Zion. Alexandra’s Apartments. Alexandra. Joseph. Salome.
Enter Herod, Soemus, and Retinue.
Herod.
I’m home again. (To Soemus.) Does it stil bleed? The stone,
Though meant for me, hit you because in just
That nick of time you came to tell me something.
Your head for this time made your King a shield,
But had you stayed at post——
Soemus.
I had not then
Received the wound nor rendered you the service,
If it be worth the name. In Galilee
That man is stoned at least who’s so foolhardy
To get at loggerheads with you and me,
Since I’m your shadow or your speaking-trumpet
Or what you will.
Herod.
Yes, there the men are true—
That is, to ends of theirs; and since these ends
With mine go hand in hand, to mine as well.
Soemus.
How true this token shows you—that you find
Myself in your chief city.
Herod.
Ay, indeed
I had not thought that I would meet you here,
For when the King is far there’s double need
Among the stiff-necked provinces for watchers.
What was it then that drove you from your post?
’Twas sure some other impulse than the wish
To prove me that it might unjeopardised
Lie tenantless; or thought’s instinctive feel
That a flung stone was here to intercept.
Soemus.
I was come here to advertise the viceroy
Touching disclosures of a wondrous kind,
And tell them orally in all due haste.
I would apprise him that the Pharisees
Seek even the stubborn soil of Galilee,
Although their work is vain, to underburrow.
But all too late my warning came; I found
Jerusalem in flames by then, and could
But help extinguish them.
Herod (giving him his hand).
And that you did
With blood of yours!—Ah, Joseph! you? Good-day!
I thought to find you other here; but good;
Yet, for the nonce, go bring me Sameas
The Pharisee, who’s held by Captain Titus
A prisoner in the mode the Scythians use.
The ironside Roman drags him, fastly bounden
Unto the tail of the war-horse he rides,
Hither and thither, since the holy zealot
Spat after him i’ the open market-place.
Now he must run as he may ne’er before
Have run if he’s no mind to have a tumble
And go a-draggling. Then and there ’twere better
That I had rescued him as I went past.
I’ faith, ’tis sure I owe him thanks alone
That all the serpents who until to-day
Crawled stilly from my foot, are known to me.
Now I can stamp them piecemeal when I will.
[Exit Joseph.
(To Alexandra.) I give you greeting, and from Antony
I am to make announcement that a river
Cannot be brought to judgment; and a King
Within whose land it flows with less of right
Because he did not earth it in. (To Soemus.) I were
Long since again come hither, but when friends
Together meet who seldom see each other,
They hold them fast. And so ’twill be with you
(I treat you with a foretaste) now I’m host
And have you at the longed-for last again.
And you with me must set the figs a-shaking
Just as, perforce, I aided Antony,
Pah, gluttony! in stream of old Falernian
To smother lampreys and call many a prank
From out our bygone times to jog remembrance
With freshening fillip. So, resolve your mind
To do like service. If I scarce may have
Enough of the triumphant hero in me
To have you so commanded to my presence
As he commanded me to his, with show
Of hearing me on some insipid charge,
His brow like Cæsar’s wrinkled and his arm
With lightning and with thunderbolt beweaponed,
And all to be assured—this was the ground
On which he did it—that I came for certain,
If such be so, at least to-day’s good chance
That puts you in my hands I’ll use to profit
And say, as he, when speeches on your office
Begin—“If you conduct it as you should
It does not need your every wink o’ the eye.
You come so seldom that it seems you’re loath
To be here!”
Soemus.
Lord, you do me an injustice;
And yet I have no cause to come too often.
Herod (to Salome).
And you here too? So you have learnt at last
To trick your wits, when you meet Mariamne,
With fancy-thoughts that you look in a mirror
And spy your own reflected counterpart?
’Twas oft my counsel when you eyed her sourly;
It never pleased. Take not the jest amiss.
There is no evil doing in the hour
When friends are come a-meeting. But where is she?
I heard it said that she was with her mother
And so came here.
Salome.
She went when she had learnt
That you were nearing.
Herod.
Went? Impossible!
But good. She did it since ’tis solitude
Befits reunion. (Aside.) Heart, will you bear her anger
Nor rather make amends? (Aloud.) I follow her;
Her delicate feeling’s right.
Salome.
Go, self-deceiver!
The fright of seeing you recalled to life,
The shame of having credited your death,
The greater shame of her spoiled widowhood—
O’ersmooth it all with fondling gloss of shyness
The maiden feels who ne’er has known a man
Nor seen the shivering woman taken in sin!
She went from fear!
Herod.
From fear? Look round about you,
We are not here alone.
Salome.
That’s opportune!
If before witnesses I bring my plaint
It will be guaranteed your surer ear
And crushed the harder underfoot.
Herod.
You place
Yourself twixt her and me? Have then a care!
You may be trampled piecemeal.
Salome.
This time, not!
Although I know how small the sister counts
When you are dealing with the Maccabean,
This time——
Herod.
I tell you one thing! If, the day
On which she first was given to my sight,
A man were risen in accusation ’gainst her,
He had not easily obtained my hearing,
But yet more easily than now. Take that for warning.
I am so heavy in her debt that she
Can owe no debt to me. I feel that deep.
Salome.
Ah, so she has free charter?
Herod.
Any mask
To wear that she thinks well for your hoodwinking
If she would kill the drive of time with you.
Salome.
Then—then I must be mute. What use in speaking?
For whatsoe’er I chose to tell you, ever
Your answer would be ready—mummery!
At least this mummery has had good luck.
Not me alone but all the world with me
It’s taken by the ear; it costs you honour
And me my rest, however you may swear
That Joseph’s only done what duty bade
When he—see to’t if any man believe you!
Herod.
When he—what underdrift is lurking? End it!
But no—not yet——(To a servant.) I bid the Queen be craved
To grant to us her presence. Is it not
As though the whole o’ the world were spider-clean
And all had nested them within my house,
That when for once I see the blue of Heaven
They forthwith might o’erhang it with their webs
And do the work of clouds? True, strange it is
That she comes not. She should, sheer-forced, have kissed me
Caught in the ungoverned all-compelling moment,
And then she might have vexed her lips with biting
When even at that the Ghost refused its quittance.
(To Salome.) Know you what you have ventured? Know you, woman?
I was rejoiced! D’you understand? And now—
Once on a day the Earth when I was thirsty
Spilled from my hand a goblet filled with wine
Because it fell to quaking ere my lips
Could drain it; I forgave it since I must;
On you I could avenge me.
[Enter Mariamne.